Parking Officer: I’m sorry, miss Del Ray, but you can’t park your car here.

Lana Del Rey: *runs hand down officer’s cheek*

Parking Officer: Uh, yeah. So unless you move it…

Lana Del Rey: *catches blood red rose petal that falls from the sky*

Parking Officer: Where…? Uh, whatever. Unless you move your car…

Lana Del Rey: *softly exhales thick, sweet-smelling cigarette smoke*

Parking Officer: … I’m going to have to…

Lana Del Rey: *looks to the horizon as the sun shimmers and sets across a sea of crimson diamonds*

Parking Officer: … give you a ticket. Did the sun just set? It’s only 2:30pm.

Lana Del Rey: *leans back onto a giant black leather sofa*

Parking Officer: How is that even… you’re on a sofa in the middle of the road. You have to move that. Where did that even come from?

Lana Del Rey: *closes her eyes and touches her breast as darkness falls and everything fades to black*

Parking Officer: What? Hello? I… You still need to move your car. What’s happening right now?

Join the conversation! 3 Comments

  1. Don’t ever write for TV. Please.


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About Felix O'Shea

Felix is a guy who isn't actually a writer, but calls himself one when he wants to try to impress gullible people.


Random rubbish that I can't think of a category for


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